


Sweet and Tangy

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Series: Sweet and Tangy [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apples, Bars and Pubs, Body Shots, F/M, Hyperion Heights, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 18:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13641771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: On a walk through the neighborhood of Hyperion Heights, Weaver buys a couple of apples before paying a visit to his favorite girl, Roni.





	Sweet and Tangy

**Author's Note:**

> Date Written: 7-11 February 2018  
> Word Count: 4811  
> Written for: [](https://poetry-fiction.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](https://poetry-fiction.dreamwidth.org/)**poetry_fiction** 2018  
>  Prompt: see quote below  
> Summary: On a walk through the neighborhood of Hyperion Heights, Weaver buys a couple of apples before paying a visit to his favorite girl, Roni.  
> Spoilers: Canon divergent AU of S7 where Weaver and Roni have been having a sort of secret relationship in Hyperion Heights this whole time. This fic nebulously takes places approximately one week before the events of ep 07x01 "Hyperion Heights". Everything else we know about the characters is totally up for grabs.  
> Warnings: No standard warnings apply.  
> Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Doggie Duo  
> Link to: <http://bdkk.shatterstorm.net/>  
> Archive: ShatterStorm Productions & AO3 only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…  
> Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> Author’s Disclaimer: "Once Upon a Time," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis, Kitsis/Horowitz, and ABC Studios. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Once Upon a Time," ABC, or any representatives of the actors.
> 
> Author’s Notes: This is my very first GoldenQueen fic. Still can't believe how long it's taken to finally write it. I will definitely be writing more for them, that's for sure. And I will never let any version of the Imp have the primary POV in a fic I write again.
> 
> Author's Notes, Part 2: This was supposed to be ~1500 words. I even had it done on time and posted to my journals, and then this bastard of a muse decided that he had more to say and I ended up scrapping part of the ending to redo it and add even more on! What a crazy, kinky ride this has been. LOL! The idea of a dom/sub relationship between Weaver and Roni seems very obvious to me, and I love that Roni has turned out to be more of a SAM than I expected her to be, but I love that she also was able to submit so beautifully to Weaver. There will likely be more of this coming down the line at some point.
> 
> Dedication: My muses, as usual…
> 
> Beta: None, as I don't have anyone easily available who's willing to read/beta GoldenQueen for me.

"Seeking what I could not name, my vespertine  
Spirit loitered evenings down leaf-lined  
Streets. Stray dogs for company, curbs were empty."  
\-- Major Jackson, "Autumn Landscape"

 

He hasn't walked a beat in a decade or more, but here he is. He's left the car back at the station, choosing instead to enjoy the balmy early fall evening. He's not planning to go home tonight anyway, not if he has a choice. But it's too soon to head over to the bar yet. And this is how he finds himself wandering the community of Hyperion Heights. Oh, he won't deny that he's got a finger on the pulse of everything shady and underhanded in this neighborhood, and several things on the up and up for appearance's sake. He's a known player on both sides of the law and he likes it when those two sides _don't_ mix.

Passing the community garden, he gets a sudden craving for a crisp, sweet, red as blood apple polished to a shine. He can smell the fresh, earthy scent of it; can feel its heft cradled in his palm as he lifts it to his mouth and takes a bite; can taste the explosion of juices, sweet with just the faintest hints of honey and tartness, as they drip down his throat. It's such a specific invocation to his soul, he feels bereft that it's not real. Glancing at his watch, he notes the corner bodega should still be open, and the Mendez family has always had the best produce in the area. If they don't have what he's looking for, no one will outside of Pike Place, and there's no way in hell he's going to head into downtown at this point for a damned snack.

Three Honeycrisp apples purchased from the youngest of the Mendez boys, and a reminder of their C.I. deal, and Weaver finds himself walking the neighborhood again as he munches happily on the smallest of the apples. He chuckles to himself as he pictures what he'll do with the other two apples, then stops in his tracks when he realizes he doesn't have any actual honey. "No matter," he murmurs to himself. "I know she'll have some, if she knows what's good for her."

*****

By the time he's finished the first apple and started on the second, the sun has nearly fully set, bathing the sky in shades of purple and indigo streaked at the western horizon with red and gold. There's a bit of a breeze ruffling through his hair and trying to worm its way into his jacket. He's already passed by his final destination twice, once via the alley in back and once from across the street. As he nears that particular block for the third time, he intentionally makes his way for the front door, pausing under the neon sign for a brief moment to stow the final apple in his jacket pocket.

The bar is busier than normal tonight. It takes a moment to notice the instruments set up on the small stage, and he has to wonder what kind of band she booked for tonight. Judging by the crowd, it's likely a popular local group. She always has had a sixth sense about that sort of thing. He waits patiently for an opening at the bar to make his presence known, as well as to watch the proprietress in her element. She is wearing well-worn black jeans and one of her ubiquitous rock t-shirts; tonight's offering is David Bowie as Ziggy Stardust. He prefers the Pink Floyd shirt, but he knows where her proclivities lie. He can't see her feet, but is sure she's got the Doc Martens on tonight. That air of _Enjoy yourself, but don't fuck with me or my bar_ is strong tonight. He's missed at least one altercation already; the realization makes his skin itch.

"I was wondering when you were going to show your ugly mug in here," she says, bringing him out of his thoughts. She's already pouring him three fingers' worth from her private stock of whiskey. "I saw you skulking about out there earlier."

"Just walking the neighborhood to get the feel of the old girl again," he replies with a small, knowing smile as he takes the glass. "You know how I like to poke my fingers in any holes I find." He takes a sip of the whiskey, savoring the mellow tang on his tongue before swallowing, then glances up to see her staring at him in shock, quickly followed by her low rumble of laughter. "Put this on my tab, yes?"

"Your tab could probably cover my mortgage for a couple months," she retorts. "You ever gonna pay that up?"

He takes another sip of his whiskey, this time watching as her eyes follow the bob of his throat. "You know I take care of what's mine. Never had a single complaint about my technique."

Roni squirms a bit at that, making him chuckle. "You're such a bastard sometimes, Weaver. You gonna sit here at the bar? Looks like your usual table's been taken over by some of the newer, _paying_ customers."

Weaver quirks a brow at her, sipping at his whiskey again, and smiles when she eventually drops her gaze. "Good girl," he murmurs. "You'll pay for that after closing." She doesn't answer him, but he can see the submission in her eyes before she moves further down the bar to help another customer.

*****

The band is decent, a little too grunge for his taste, but the crowd likes them. Weaver sits in his spot at the far end of the bar, savoring his drink and the view as Roni works. Her jeans are tighter than he first thought and more worn in, too. He can't wait to peel them off of her when they're alone again. She's been shooting him hot, curious looks all night, but he's simply continued to sip his whiskey and nibble on the pretzels she has out.

Finally, she announces Last Call and starts closing out tabs. People slowly clear out until it's just the band packing up their instruments and the two of them. He's surprised that Mills and his girlfriend never made an appearance, but they do have her daughter to consider. Not that he minds, of course, as it means less people to linger when he wants them all gone. Roni refills his glass just before she locks up behind the band. He watches her wiping down the tables, then gets up and goes behind the bar to slice up the apple that's been in his pocket all this time.

"What are you doing?"

"Preparing a little snack," he says, not looking at her. He knows she can't see what he's doing, that it drives her insane with the need to _know_. "Where's your honey, dearie?"

She frowns at that. "The simple syrup's in the small fridge. The bottle's marked. You know that."

He sets the knife down and slams the flat of his hand sharply on the bar top, delighting in the way she flinches at the sound it makes. "I didn't ask about simple syrup, did I, dearie? Where is your honey?" He draws out each word until it's practically a sentence in its own right, eyes boring into hers the whole time.

There's a subtle shift to her stance at his question, one that most people wouldn't even notice. But Weaver's a master at reading body language, even if he didn't know this particular body so intimately, and he knows without a doubt that Roni's going to lose another thong to his personal treasure collection. Her thighs press together a bit more as the tip of her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip before her teeth press into the plump flesh. He can't wait to plunder that sassy mouth of hers and wring all sorts of confessions from her. He quirks a brow at her, lips pursing in mock annoyance at her reluctance to answer him.

"I, uh…" She winces as her voice cracks on that, cheeks darkening noticeably even in the dim lighting. Clearing her throat, she points to his left. "Behind the condiment holder. It should be a full bottle."

He smiles and reaches for the bottle, setting it on the bar where she can see it. He knows she'll stew over what it could possibly mean the entire time she finishes her closing routine. Good. She'll be primed and swimming in her own arousal for him when he's ready for her. He goes back to slicing the apple, then looks again behind the condiment holder and sees a shaker bottle that looks different. Pulling it out, he smiles broadly.

"Honey powder?" The knowing amusement deepens his voice. "Now what, pray tell, would you need with this in your bar, Roni?"

She attempts and utterly fails at a nonchalant shrug. "I had a customer request it once with amaretto shots. They said it was a sweeter version of tequila shots but without the obvious sweetness of sugar crystals. I keep it in case anyone else wants the same."

"Good to know," he says with a smirk, then waves vaguely at her. "Finish what you're doing, Roni, and don't dawdle." He returns to his own task, giving off the appearance of ignoring her as she finishes her own work.

After several minutes of them quietly working while the jukebox provides background noise, he glances up to see Roni making her way back to the bar. There's an electric current in the air as she comes closer. He knows instantly that she knows what's going to come, maybe not the specifics, but that she's going to be punished for her sass and then rewarded so nicely for it.

"I just need to settle the register," she says softly, gesturing vaguely at the office.

"Get to it," he says, stepping right into her personal space, not letting her get to the register just yet. "But if I find out you're touching yourself in there, I will be very angry. You _do not_ have permission for that. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sir." Her words are little more than a murmur, eyes downcast.

"Good girl," he replies, stroking her cheek. He turns back to grab an apple slice and sprinkles a bit of the honey powder on it before holding it to her lips. "A little preview of what's to come." She opens her mouth, takes the treat from his fingers, licking them briefly. "Hurry along, dearie. You don't want to keep me waiting."

*****

He knows when she steps out of the office, and not just because of the measured strides of her boots. He's never understood the preternatural awareness he has of her, but he's never found cause to question it either. He continues to stand there, staring out into the empty bar as he sips his whiskey. Everything is ready; he just needs her. He doesn't bother to look at her, wants her to squirm just a little longer first.

"All finished now? Or are you going to have another excuse to waste my time tonight?"

"All finished, Sir, and all yours."

He smirks at that. Clearly her earlier cockiness has dissipated into this lovely obedience that he enjoys to tease until she can't stand it. He takes another drink, savoring the whiskey, letting its heat coil deep in his gut alongside the thrill of what's to come. Setting his glass on the bar, he turns to look at her. Roni stands there with downcast eyes and hands in her back pockets, teeth worrying at her bottom lip. He walks over, curls a finger under her chin, smiling when she meets his eyes. His lips brush against hers as soon as she releases the bottom one, and she moans softly. He kisses her again, deeper, more insistent, and she parts her lips to his questing tongue. He take his time plundering her mouth, enjoying the way she twitches and squirms, and finally pulls back to tug on her lip none too gently.

"Please," she whispers.

"Please what, dearie?" he asks, hand trailing down from her chin to palm her breast. Her nipple is already stiff under the soft, warm cotton of t-shirt and bra, and she arches into his touch. He chuckles and pinches until she lets out a low moan. "We're going to play a game, a messy little game, so these need to come off. Boots, jeans, and shirt to start with, and then I want you to sit up on the bar, facing the windows." She shivers at that, eyes darting toward the windows briefly. "Come now, Roni, you pulled those curtains yourself. You want to be a good girl, don't you?"

"Y-Yes, Sir."

"Well then…"

At his quirked brow, she nods and takes a step back to kneel down and undo the laces on both boots and remove her socks. She shivers slightly, but sets them aside and stands to pull the Bowie shirt up and off, revealing a plain black racerback sports bra. It takes a moment for her to release button and zipper, then the jeans join her shirt on the counter. Licking her lips, she pauses and meets his gaze. "Uh, any particular seat you'd like to sit in?"

He points to where two shot glasses and the bottles of honey and honey powder sit. "To the left of those."

Roni quickly scrambles up on the bar, squeaking softly at the chill of the varnished wood. Her legs are together, hands in her lap, and she sits with her back ramrod straight as she stares at the blackout curtains. Weaver sets the dish of apple slices and the bottle of whiskey on the bar before coming around to sit on the stool directly in front of her, forcing her to spread her legs a bit. He can smell her arousal as soon as she does, can see how the crotch of her black thong is darker than the rest of the material.

"Good girl. And you wore all black tonight. Were you expecting me?" She shakes her head, a soft moan escaping her lips as his fingers trail up the inside of her left thigh. He stops close enough to feel the heat pouring off of her, but not close enough to touch where he knows she wants him to. He turns and pours two shots of whiskey, offering one to her, then picks up a slice of apple from the dish of lemon water. "Hold this in your mouth. Don't eat it and don't drop it." Lastly, when she does as told, he takes her other forearm and flips it over to sprinkle a bit of the honey powder on it. "Don't let that spill either."

He leans back then, and stares at her. The apple slice trembles ever so faintly between her lips, shot glass steady in her left hand, right forearm held as still as she can to contain the powder. The muscles of her stomach and thighs twitch in anticipation. He leans in to wrap his lips around the rim of the shot glass and quickly tilts his head back to let it wash down his throat. Setting it aside, he drags his tongue through the honey powder, then leans up to pluck the fruit from her lips.

"Fuck!"

It comes out as more of a whine, and he chuckles as he chews and swallows. He takes the other shot glass and hands it to her, then rolls up his sleeves. Setting a piece of apple in his mouth, he sprinkles honey powder on his own wrist and quirks a brow at her. Without hesitation, she tosses back the shot and, setting down the glass blindly, she lets her tongue lap up the sweetly savory powder. The apple slice disappears into her mouth as she leans back on her hands to smirk at him, chewing slowly and swallowing with a lusty moan.

He'd rather die than admit what effect she has on him, but he can feel his jeans getting stiflingly tight based on that moan alone. Rather than dwell on that or let her get any kind of ego boost just yet, he sets up for another round of shots, the honey powder on her left knee this time. After two more shots each, he divests her of her bra and gets her to stretch out on the bar. This time, the honey powder goes across the flat planes of her stomach, sticking due to the light sheen of sweat on her skin, requiring him to suck a little harder on her skin to get it all. The small dark mark left behind makes him smirk and plan on where he can leave more. It's been a while since he's marked her properly.

"Did you just--"

He shuts her up with a slice of apple between her lips and a quirk of his brow. The honey powder is sprinkled over her right breast and nipple now, and it takes everything in him not to just suck it off immediately. Pouring the two shots, he stands up to complete this one, absently adjusting himself in his jeans in the process. This may have to be the last shot or he'll waste a perfectly good orgasm, and that won't make him happy at all. He proceeds to take the shot, sucking on her nipple until she's practically keening with her need, fingers tangling in his hair. He bites down a little harder when she tries to force his head down her body, not letting up until she whimpers and whispers, "I'll be good, Sir."

He sucks on her nipple harder again, letting it go with a pop before saying, "Good girl. I'd rather not have to spank you and deny you any release for the next week."

"Please, no," she whimpers, thighs pressing tightly together, then repeats, "I'll be good."

Her hips move sinuously a few times before he settles a hand low on her belly. She stills immediately, and he smiles at her obedience. "That's what I like to hear. You need to come, don't you?" When she nods, he chuckles, the sound rough and husky. He needs to, as well, but he can hold out longer than she can; he's sure of it and he'll punish her even if he can't. They're only five shots in, and he knows she's been tossing them back all night like she usually does. "How badly do you need it, dearie?"

"So badly, Sir," she replies, licking her lips and arching into his touch as two of his fingers dip beneath the waistband of her thong. "I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

" _Anything!_ "

Weaver pauses at that, considers a few of the more degrading things he could do to her as punishment for her sass earlier, but the warmth of the whiskey in his gut and the smell of her arousal win out over his bastardly side. "You'll owe me one thing of my choice at a future date and you cannot refuse. Do you understand?" She pauses for a long moment, eyes closed, and he wonders what she's thinking, whether or not she'll use her safe word with him. "Roni?"

"I understand," she finally says, then swallows audibly before adding, "Daddy."

That whispered word and the raw need in her now-open eyes very nearly have him coming in his jeans. There is no need for further teasing her. They both need this. Without another word, he surges forward to kiss her, tongue aggressively sweeping through her mouth, branding her as _his_ once again. He bites her bottom lip, tugging it until the pain just starts to register in her eyes, then nips his way down her neck. She'll definitely need a scarf tomorrow. His fingers tug her thong down her legs, leaving her absolutely naked and primed for him.

"Turn to face me, dearie," he growls against her throat.

He waits until she's moved, body facing him as she leans back on her elbows, legs splayed to either side of his arms. When she meets his gaze, he lifts up her thong and licks the copious moisture on the gusset before shoving them into his back pocket. She whimpers softly at that, licking her own lips, and her legs shift open even farther. He can see how aroused she is: her skin is flushed and her cunt glistening. With a low growl, he pulls her closer to the edge of the bar by the backs of her thighs. He doesn't need it, but he reaches for the bottle of honey anyway.

"What are you--" Her words strangle off into a moan as he drizzles the honey over her exposed cunt. "Oh fuck!"

He wastes no time on pleasantries, burying his face between her thighs to lap up the earthy sweetness of the honey and the sharp tang of her arousal. The combination is tastier than he imagined it would be; he'll definitely do this again in the future. For now, he continues to take in the flavor combination a little longer. Swirling his tongue around her clit once, twice, a third time, he delights in her soft grunts and undulating hips. He leans back long enough to say, "Remember, you don't come until I say you can."

"Y-Yes, Sir," she moans, head falling back briefly, then tilts back up to narrow her eyes at him. "Lap up all that honey, yeah? I don't want a fucking yeast infection."

He doesn't hesitate and slaps his hand against her cunt, fingers thwapping her clit sharply. "Watch your tone, dearie. I can still give you that punishment without letting you come at all tonight."

"You wouldn't da--" She instantly cuts off the retort as he lifts his hand again. She swallows thickly and drops her gaze. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

He smirks at how easily she acquiesces and decides to reward them both for it. Two fingers glide easily into her cunt, thrusting deep and hard half a dozen times before dragging them across her g-spot on the final retreat. She shudders at that, eyes black with desire as he holds up his hand between them. As he moves his hand closer, she leans in to open her mouth, sucking his fingers in and swirling her tongue around them in a move his cock is very familiar with. When he's sure she's cleaned his fingers enough, he removes them and kisses her again, just enough to tease and make her whine.

"You want it, don't you, girl?" he asks, pulling back to study her face, then laughs darkly when she nods and whines again, hips bucking up off the bar in an attempt to get contact from him. "You get one orgasm tonight, dearie. You can have my mouth and fingers combined in that way that only I can make you scream, or you can have my cock. Which will it be?"

"I-- Not both? But what about you?"

"Trust me, I won't go without tonight. If you don't choose my cock now, you'll swallow it when I've finished with you."

"Fuck me," she says softly after a moment of deliberation.

He grins at the conviction in her words. "Good girl." He moves to hop up onto the bar next to her, working up to his knees as she turns to face him, still leaning back on her elbows. He unzips his jeans, shoves them and his boxer briefs down to his knees, gripping his cock in one hand to stroke it slowly. "You still don't get to come until I tell you, Roni."

"I know," she says, wrapping one leg around his hip in an attempt to pull him closer. "I'll be so good for you, Daddy."

"I know you will," he growls as he leans in to run the head of his cock through her arousal.

He snaps his hips forward, burying himself in one go, the sound of her loud moan egging him on. He sets up a punishing pace, knowing that the slow teasing fuck he'd initially intended will not be good for himself. He can torment her another time. For now, he just wants to remind her who she belongs to and make both of them feel really fucking incredible. Roni winds both legs around his waist, heels pressing into his ass, and arches her chest toward him. Taking the offer, he traps a nipple between his lips, teasing it with teeth and tongue as she moans wantonly.

His balls tighten and he knows he won't be able to hold out much longer. There's been entirely too much stimulation already tonight. Thankfully he knows her body almost as well as his own. He quickens his pace, shifting to press her legs back toward her chest, opening and angling for the penetration that drives her wild.

"Fuck!"

"You need to wait."

She nods, muscles clenching around his cock as she shudders. She won't need much more yet, but he's not _quite_ ready to end this. Roni's head tilts back as she arches up toward him, exposing her throat. He grins and leaves a trail of biting kisses from her breast up to her jaw before starting to suck a dark mark just below her ear. Fuck covering his marks with a scarf. She'll show his possession with pride or he'll punish her for it. Her throaty moans vibrate against his lips, the sensation tightening his balls again and making his entire body _ache_ with the need for release.

"Touch your clit if you need it," he growls against her skin. "I want you ready to come for me."

"Y-Yes, Daddy," she babbles, and he feels her hand moving between them. "So ready for you."

"That's my girl." He groans then as her fingers brush against the base of his cock. "Roni…"

She lets out a breathless laugh. "Just helping?" The need is clear in her voice and her eyes when he leans back to inspect the mark. She's trembling under him now, cunt muscles squeezing his cock more regularly as her fingers move so quickly against her clit. "So close. Please, Daddy!"

Her whimpering pleas are the final straw to his resolve. His hips buck harder, growing erratic as his own need gets stronger. He leans back just enough to stare at her and growl, "Come for me, girl."

Roni's loud wail sounds just seconds before her cunt muscles clamp down around his pistoning cock. He manages to hold off for another six punishing thrusts before coming with his own shout. His thrusts become slower, gentler, until he stops, still balls deep and enjoying the easing contractions of her muscles around him. He chuckles as she leans up just enough to kiss him, tongue seeking entrance into his mouth. He grants it, knowing her need to assert herself again as she comes down from her orgasm. The kiss doesn't last as long as either of them would prefer, his knees protesting the hard surface of the bar. She whines pitifully when he pulls out and reaches behind the bar for a towel to do a cursory cleanup of both of them.

"All right, girl," he says as he tucks his softening cock back into his boxer briefs and jeans. He takes a moment to slip down from the counter before turning to offer her a hand down. "Upstairs with you."

"But the bar?"

"Can be scrubbed down in the morning when I leave for work. Grab your clothes and boots and get going. I'll be right behind you. And you'd best still be naked and waiting for me in that bed of yours when I get up there."

She smirks at him then, the smartass coming out with the need to be punished. "And if I'm not?"

"You know what will happen if you're not. Do you want the possibility of another round tonight before you sleep or would you rather I start that week of no orgasms now?"

Her eyes grow wide and she freezes for a moment before shaking her head. "No, Sir. I'll be a good girl. Straight up and into bed to wait for you."

"That's my good girl," he says, a hand behind her head as he tugs her close for a gentler kiss. "You did very well tonight. I'll reward you when I get up there, but I want to make sure the bar's secure for the night. Now get going."

"Yes, Sir," she says with a smile and goes behind the bar to get her clothes and boots, then heads toward the stairs up to her loft.

He watches her go, eyes drawn to the extra sway of her hips and shapely ass. Yes, he'll definitely reward her with another orgasm before he lets her get the rest she's earned. He wants another taste, after all.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Good girl](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17668412) by [HeddaGab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeddaGab/pseuds/HeddaGab)




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